The Only Exception
by Lilaclia
Summary: With his red eye, he must face many challenges. Not many got close to him and he didn't mind. But she just might be the only exception.
1. Beginning

**The Only Exception**

_beginning_

* * *

_And I've always lived like this  
Keeping a comfortable, distance  
And up until now  
I had sworn to myself that I'm  
Content with loneliness_

_Because none of it was ever worth the risk_  
_Well, you, are, the only exception_

* * *

A yell. Metal meeting hard bone. The slow drip-drop of liquid meeting cement.

She's on the ground beside him, her arms uselessly hanging by her side, and vaguely knows she hears an affirmative when she asks his wellbeing but the spike of fear doesn't even overcome the sense of realization that he had saved her from a potentially life-threatening injury.

Even now he tells her to save her own life.

A shadow appears, overhead her own body and she wonders why she was never good at thinking quick on her feet. Not with Ayaka and now, not with her own life. It's all over.

A huff of breath. As a body crashes down and metal clatters to the ground.

Her wrist is pulled and she hears the yell of crouching down and spots the shovel with its destination, once again, being her face, but she's too late and it's the second time today that she's sure she's going to be reunited with her sister. But she's pushed into a warm chest right when she braces for collision.

Another yell. She's pulled out the door and watches as he slams down on the door, hastily winding the chain around the handle. Her wrist is tugged on again and she listens as he tells her that they need to get going. Heeding his command, she wills her legs to mindlessly move to keep up with his. Her mind is filled to the brim with nothing and everything, a jumble confusion and admiration wrapped in exposed fear. Even the whiplash of the night's cool air does nothing but knock on a closed door.

Sprinting. Hard stomps on tree branches to avoid tripping. Ragged breathing even when they're on campus again.

Two bodies slump on the ground of the club room and she is leaning on the wall for life support. Her breathing stops sounding like a person waiting for Death's claws to grasp onto their feeble fingers and her nerves have finally connected enough to question what happened.

"Ouch," he murmurs.

Something primitive snaps and she's sitting forward on her legs, trying to examine his face but he's too far. "Are you okay?' She disregards any hesitation and says, "Let me see."

His face is tilted in apprehension toward her as she comes forward with a handkerchief she found swarmed in her bag. Hesitation seeps in as she settles herself between his legs and the distance between them minimizes.

He touches her fingers, "It's fine," and pushes them away for the handkerchief. "I'll do it myself." He applies pressure to the damp area on his head, closes his eyes and tries to even out his breathing so she'll move back.

She remains seated in her position and her hand stays raised in the air. A hollow carving in her stomach is opening up and it's when he finally looks to meet her eyes does she take note the welling in her eyes spilled over. Her stomach turns and an oddly familiar sensation of endless nights and the softness of her pillow is drenched up to encourage the tears. The numbness turns to aching and she's ready to curl into herself.

Time continues in silence, in tune with her tears, until he gently brushes his hand to the base of her neck.

"Was it scary? It's all right now." His quiet voice seeps into the confines of her mind and pushes the latch up, her tears freefalling now and warmth starts to bubble.

His hand moves down to her shoulder and it's a safety blanket being wrapped around her so she grips onto his sleeve in return and she chokes the sobs back but they threaten to explode as she speaks. "It was so scary," and she's realizing that fact only as she says it because the churning she feels can signal nothing but, "I thought we would be killed. But you saved me." She stops there because thinking about how he helped her when she couldn't do anything and is still helping her now only make the tears stream faster. Her grip on his sleeve tightens.

He stays silent and she continues crying, knowing that it's been years since the shadows creeping in her mind managed to slither in and grip her like this but he was an unknown variable and this time, she thinks her tears are healthy.

Embarrassed, she apologizes for crying one she manages to swipe away the leftover stray tears. She wants to reprimand herself when she thinks about the self-pity party she just threw and jumps in alert when she remember his injury.

Then she notices.

It's a threaded swirl of roses and red-velvet cake and strawberries overtop soft kisses of amber. He looks down but it does nothing to deter the imprint of it in her mind, even as he closes his eyes in dismay and says something.

Heat floods her ears and cheeks, but she's pretty sure it's consumed her by now, and her control over her limbs has escaped her once again. Her mouth is already open so she whispers, "Pretty." He questions her and she confirms it once he looks to her again. "Your eye is really pretty."

He laughs. His body quivers with it and in vain does he try to muffle his laughter.

Nerves seep to curl her hands into fists and she foams in worry."W-Why are you laughing?" The rekindled laughter only becomes harder for him to restrain.

"That's the best one yet—to say it's pretty. Where's your common sense?" Another chuckle. "I thought you would scream."

His jaw is relaxed and the paleness is dissipating, there's life in his face again, more than she's ever seen. Softened eyes and his mouth is turned up even as he speaks, the hint of humour still there.

A stream of lava is journeying up to her face again but she tries to concentrate on something else to keep it down.

She wants to say he looks even prettier now but she decides to keep quiet about that and documents it for later.

* * *

**A/N: **This will be Yakumo/Haruka, in any sense. It will be a collection of drabbles, and they may be themed if I wish. Their relationship will be either platonic, romantic or whatever it happens to be. I don't know how this'll go along because the fandom/fanbase for this is _so _tiny. I'm just going to have fun with this, because I am very taken with both of their characters and their relationship, and I don't even like Paramore all that much but that song is like the theme song of their relationship.

Anyway, until next time!


	2. Pastries

**The Only Exception**

_pastries_

* * *

A moment of silence.

"…Do you want the pastries?" She asked bluntly.

He looked at her inquiringly, his eyes heavy with sleep. He brought his arms over his head and stretched before rubbing his eyes tiredly, trying to be more alert. "Pass them over." His voice was monotone and lacked any emotion.

She passed him the box and sat down in the chair across from him and watched as he inspected the food. She had walked into the room with the box in the middle of the day and she had expected him to be awake by then, but, lo and behold, he was still sleeping. She merely shook her head at him before waking him up by calling his name, and in a minute he was awake.

He picked up a pastry, a butter tart, and delicately held it between his forefinger and thumb before popping it into his mouth and chewing slowly. He gulped his pastry down and kept his eyes trained on the box before raising his eyes to meet hers. He yawned once before quickly saying, "Are you just going to stare at me all day," and at that, she had pouted a bit but a splay of pink brushed over her cheeks, "but obviously that's not the case, so what do you want?" She wondered whether he chose to be blunt on purpose or just lacked a certain trait called tact.

She shook her head at him, it was turning into a routine that he would always ask her what she wanted. Maybe he only did asked her that, or maybe he was just used to asking people that. He did say that people either came to him for help not often for company.

"No, I was just walking this store had beautiful pastries that looked delicious so I bought a box of them. I couldn't eat all of them, so I thought you might want some." She spoke softly before shrugging her shoulders.

He lifted a pecan danish out of the box and she raised an eyebrow. He hadn't noticed her action and spoke again, "You brought food. Clearly this was some form of bribery or payment to help you." His tone was indifferent and he took a bite of the danish.

"Does everything have to be to use your eye? I just came over to eat together, I'm not bribing anyone here." She spoke defiantly, she found his eye to be beyond fascinating but it wasn't what defined him. "You're not a _completely_ horrible conversational partner."

The pink haired girl was a tad bit annoyed at the male who sat across from her. But her eyes mellowed out, it's because he was used to that being the case.

She smiled at the male, while he looked at her curiously, still munching on his danish.

"It's a good thing you let me eat some of these pastries, otherwise you would've ate all of them yourself."

She stopped smiling at him.

* * *

**A/N:** This is late. _Very _late. These drabbles will be short, and not very serious - so that's a heads up. I do plan on more serious things though, these characters are quite interesting. Not to mention I'm still in shock from episode 7 - particularly the ending, despite having seen it 5 times in the past 12 hours; I still cannot stop thinking about it.

Thanks for reading! This has gotten way more attention that I would have ever thought, so thank you _all _very much!


	3. Scream

**The Only Exception**

_scream_

* * *

He was too late this time.

He heard the second scream, and he wasn't even inside the building yet. No one was around, it was 3 at night.

Normal people would be sleeping, but he was not normal and neither were those screams.

He slams the door open and wuns for the stairs as soon as he sees them.

You can never trust elevators, not in a situation like this, it would mean you're as good as dead.

And he sure as hell didn't want _anyone_ to die today.

He's heard screams before. Screams of people when they ride a rollercoaster, those screams are out of terror, adrenaline, and for fun. Screams of people when they're watching a thriller movie, those screams are because they're scared for the people in the movie. Screams in a haunted house in an amusement park, those are screams someone would make when they're frightened.

There goes another scream, the third one.

These three screams that he's heard in less than a minute, they are not normal screams.

He runs up the stairs, bitterly wondering why this psycho had to pick a building with fifteen floors. His eyes widened when he thought about it some more and came to the conclusion that the psycho _wanted_ him to hear these screams.

The psycho had said he wanted them to see eye to eye, for Yakumo to understand him better.

Yakumo doesn't understand why he is so lazy anymore. If he wasn't always sleeping, he might be up at the fifteenth floor by now, but no, he's only at the sixth.

The numbers indicating the floors seem to go by slower and slower and when he sees the number seven go by is when he hears the fourth scream.

He used to like the number five, it was his favourite. Not anymore, he's hoping he won't have to hear five screams in less than five minutes.

This case was not normal. Yakumo had a creeping suspicion when he started the case. No case was normal, he knew that, but there was this dark feeling to the case. He'd felt this feeling before, but he'd known the Nanase Family Quadruple Murder Case wasn't normal since he heard about it on TV. That was covered by the media extensively but they had just recently solved it, with his "father" being involved in it.

This time, his "father" wasn't behind anything. There was a psycho, but this psyho was not him.

Number eight, only seven more floors to go. Yakumo wonders if he'll make it, then forces himself to not even think of that possibility.

He _must_ make it in time before ...certain events.

There was a ghost involved in this case. There's _always_ a ghost in the case when Yakumo's involved, but this ghost wasn't the one wreaking havoc, something he figured out too late.

He hears another scream. Five is a horrible number. He no longer has a favourite number, five is far too much. Too much screaming, he'd rather silence.

But at this point, silence would be worse than screams.

At the least, screams indicate _life_.

This case was horrific, things meant to be in horror movies. These things should never happen in real life, but they did.

People were murdered. With a ghost involved, there's always murder.

Yakumo knows ghosts are just forms with large amounts of emotions, he was brought on the case to see if he could find the problem with the ghost.

He's on floor ten now, he only needs to run up five more floors. He can feel his lungs tightening in his chest. He needs to stop to breathe, his body is not used to this physical exercise. His legs are aching, the stairs are taking too much out of him.

But he must keep going, this is not about him right now. This is someone else's life on the line, a few aches and pains were nothing compared to a life being taken away _when he had the chance to do something about it_.

The horrors in the psychiatric hospital were just that, horrific. There were people murdered with axes, and they would always find the axe covered in blood, blood dripping down the handle - drip, drop. Other times it'd be people stabbed and messages written by the blood of the murdered patients on the wall, 'I hope someone would understand my pain now,' or 'What you feel now is nothing to what I felt'. Sometimes they'd find fingers chopped up. But it was more than that. They would take the fingers and chop them into tiny pieces. One times they find a pinkie finger, but it was a pile of mush because someone had taken the hospital's blender from the kitchen and blended the shopped finger and poured into the cup and left it on the counter, as though it was waiting for someone to _drink_ it.

Gotou thought it was a ghost haunting the mental institution. Yakumo didn't believe that a ghost's spirit would be able to do such things, and then he met _him_.

He was not normal, as he was a patient in the institution, but Yakumo saw him as emotionally pained.

At the time, Yakumo just didn't know to what extent.

Floor thirteen, he can hear voices now. Yakumo thinks he's heard more than five screams but he doesn't know. He's trying to tune them out. He wasn't masochistic, he wouldn't force himself to feel pain from hearing the screams. It's not that he lost count, he just _does not want to know_. He counted until five, meaning he failed more than five times.

_Why could I have not gotten here sooner?_ He can't help but yell at himself. If he'd been smarter he would he would found out who was behind the murders.

Then he wouldn't have been forced to listen to these screams.

The man, the psycho who was on the roof at this very moment forcing those large screams out of such a tiny person, was one of those patients. Yakumo had felt bad for him because it seemed to everyone that all of those patients that tried to befriend him were the ones who would be murdered. Yakumo never liked working on this case, far too bloody. He still doesn't understand how the police can stand to be there. Patients were terrified for their lives, the "ghost" was scaring them, making them think they'd be the next target - forcing them to be less sane than they already were.

Yakumo had been searching for a ghost this whole time, and when he did find a ghost in that hospital, it was one of a nurse who was worried sick for one of her favourite patients and probably wouldn't leave this world until that patient left the hospital.

That's when Yakumo started wondering. Who would murder these people?

And then that man, that sick psycho, came up to Yakumo one day and said, "One day, Yakumo, me and you, we'll understand each other a lot better. Maybe one day, you'll get to see what I had to live through."

Yakumo hadn't thought anything of it, he was in a mental institution for crying out loud! This man was probably having an episode or something. He'd heard from the nurses that he'd had a life changing experience that put him there, apparently he always told people that no one would understand what he went through. He practically refused the treatment they offered him.

That's when Yakumo found out. He knew there wasn't any ghost related to this case, but at that point he was in the case too deep and had to find out who was doing this. What type of sick, mental person did this?

And then he realized that only a mental person would do this, they'd have to be horribly sick in the head. So he concluded, it had to be a patient.

Then he got permission to look at their files, and the first patient he looked up?

Of course it just _had_ to be that psycho, that crazy man.

The psycho's wife was murdered, by some mentally sick person. But there was more to it, she was tortured. In worse ways that those patients had been killed, tortured in ways that Yakumo didn't even want to _think_ about - because he could only hope there was no such thing like that happening up on that roof right that second to cause those screams.

But the worst part for the psycho wasn't when he saw his wife's body _after_ she'd been killed.

He'd been there to witness her being tortured. He was strapped to a chair, unable to break away, and was forced to watch and listen as his wife's life was slowly and painfully taken away.

No one should have to experience that, Yakumo had thought when he read it. No wonder he thinks no one would understand.

He ran past the number fourteen. Yakumo never thought he would make it,and just then he heard anther scream - but this time, it stopped half way.

A shiver runs through him and he tries to run faster, but knows it is foolish. Even if he did make it, he was dead tired and the man would only end up killing him because he wasn't able to defend anyone.

Yakumo knows there were only a couple more steps, but if only he'd been here even five minutes before, that would have been five less minutes of torture for _her_.

He actually made a large effort to keep her out of this case. There were only so many horrors a person should see in their lifetime, but due to his red eye - he was doomed to see more and learn more than any human. He could at least try to save the innocent from that though, right?

Haruka didn't have to know about this case, and she'd only get nightmares anyways. It's not like she'd be of help, she wouldn't be able to get a clear head in that type of atmosphere, where you know a patient could die horrendously as soon as you left the hospital - or worse, while you were still there.

He never liked coming along on his cases, they just weren't... fitting for her. She was the epitome of innocence, and to put her into a horror movie, was just cold hearted.

But somehow she'd squirmed her way into tagging along, just like she always did. She'd only been to the hospital once, but in that one visit, the psycho had seen her.

And now he had the perfect person to use to relay his own experience that he had to endure with his wife, except with Yakumo and Haruka.

Yakumo had just found out it'd been that psycho that was behind the murderers and just called the police when Haruka's cell phone called him. He had picked up immediately only to hear the voice of that man, telling him what methods he'd use to torture Haruka before he killed her and what building he was in.

Yakumo called the police quickly, but they were across town on another case so he just ran and ran. He would not, and _could_ not lose another.

He'd lost his mother and his only father figure, his uncle. That was far too much already, you just _can't_ take her too.

And as soon as he'd reached the building he'd hear a scream.

Now, the thing about these screams were that Yakumo had never heard something like them. They weren't interesting to particularly fascinating, no, nothing like that.

He just never wants to hear one of those again. Only his uncle knows that after his mother tried to kill him, he'd stopped dreaming completely.

If he still had nightmares, those screams would be the highlight of them.

They were so full of raw terror and fear, just hearing it made him fear and he sees ghosts on a daily basis.

No one ever wants to hear such a noise.

Fifteen, the number went by and only a couple more steps. Maybe fifteen steps more, now fourteen, and thirteen.

Just a couple more and then he hears another scream.

He bolts past the door, crashing it open.

He surverys the scene before quickly, Haruka is tied to a chair - her eyes wide - the man is standing at the edge of the fence that surrounds the roof, staring out at the dark sky, well away from her.

Yakumo runs to Haruka, and cuts her free with a pocket knife that he kept after being kidnapped by Miyuki Nanase. Haruka is covered in cuts done by a blade, that are bleeding but not profusely.

The ways that the man told Yakumo he'd torture Haruka with were not used. She may be scratched up, but they would heal and maybe some scars would be left.

The man, on the other hand, was the one severely injured. He has cuts that, judging by the amount of blood _pouring_ out, are very deep. Yakumo can only see his profile as the man is facing the other direction, had newly created scars covering the surface.

His clothes are soaked in blood, and Yakumo realizes that the torture methods he said he'd use on Haruka were ones he used on himself.

And that's when Yakumo has the urge to let out his dinner but holds it in. The woman beside him is crying furiously, her eyes still wide.

The psycho himself, turns around to face Yakumo and his face looks surprised as though he doesn't know he arrived.

Yakumo stares back blankly, and thinks that if there was ever a moment he'd need to use a poker face, then it was now.

"Well, well, I guess you've arrived!" To Yakumo, he sounds as though he's greeting him at a party. "You just missed the big news I told this lovely, young lady beside you though. Shame, I'll just have to repeat myself. Excuse me for a minute," he turns away from Yakumo and Haruka to cough out some blood behind him, and then he turns back to face them with a grin, "Sorry about that, as I was saying, I decided weeks ago that I wanted to leave this world but I wanted to do it... with a bang! I mean look at how my wife died, can't let Kiyomi take all the glory now, can we?" He chuckles but his grin seemes more forced than before, but Yakumo is way past feeling sympathy for the psycho.

"And then you came in the hospital with her one day and I had an opportunity to do just that! Although it's a bit of a clumsier remake of Kiyomi's death, it'll do. But, I have a little twist that differen't from my wife's death that'll happen soon enough." The man grins manically, and Yakumo has to listen to Haruka, who could only sob harder and harder as more words come out of the man's mouth.

"I had to witness my wife die in front of my eyes. Watch her as she was tortured, re-live those cries as she called my name frantically every night and day because she would not ever leave my head!" The man would not stop grinning. "And hopefully, Yakumo, we now understand each other a little better. Well, as long as _you_ understand _me_, I've accomplished my goal."Yakumo stands silently as the man looks away to look at the sky again, his hair flowing in the wind.

The psycho looks back at the both of them, Haruka and Yakumo who are both standing there frozen in shock, and he smiles genuinely at them, almost feeling sympathetic to what they have to go through because of him.

"Have a fun life, Haruka, Yakumo."

And then he jumps.

* * *

For the past hours, Yakumo has heard Haruka crying. He heard her crying when she was tied to the chair, when the police arrived and wrapped a blanket around her, when they put her into an ambulance, when they were stitching her up, and now as she lay in a hospital, a normal hospital at least, bed.

She won't stop crying, but he doesn't want her to stop crying. He doesn't necessarily want her to cry either.

He just knows he wants her to stop hurting, and he wants himself to stop hurting her.

But when he'd tried to leave before, not just the hospital but out of her life for good, she'd just cried harder and latched onto his arm until he had been forced to sit down again or drag her out with him.

She has her scars, but in time they will heal and the doctors say they will disappear in a few weeks.

So, as she did when his uncle passed away, he silently sits with her as she hold his arm and he holds hers, in a comforting way, he supposes.

It's not like he isn't shaken by that experience, either. He will never forget it, who could truly forget something like that?

He will never forget her screams, and he can only hope he will never be forced to hear them again.

She will never forget what that man did to himself, and how much she truly values life and everyone in it.

But all that stuff doesn't seem to matter much as she lays in the white hospital bed, in the white room with white walls and white bed sheet, clutching his arm as he lets her and softly clutches hers, sitting in his chair.

As they savour each other's presence, not really doing or saying anything.

Just being by each other's side during this time is enough of a comfort for the both of them.

It's more than enough.

* * *

**A/N: **I should probably tell you guys now that I was the freak who made up these list of themes. Uh, I kinda just picked out random words by flipping through pages of books I had and I picked words that way. I have a list of twenty so far, so there's going to be _at least_ twenty chapters. I'm a slow updater, its a bad habit I have. This one's a bit different and the writing style is _very_ different, its in present tense and I had to double-check so many times to stop myself from going to the past tense, frustrating stuff. I hope this one is satisfying, ok its really creepy and I'll admit that, but I liked writing this more than I should have.

Anyway, thanks for reading!


	4. Wrong

**The Only Exception**

_wrong_

* * *

_A high pitched shriek was heard as it bounced off the walls of the gym, causing an echo. It was the scream of a girl, in her pre-teen years._

_The young boy beside her had his mouth gaping open, as though he were ready to emit the same shriek but no sound was passing through. He slowly raised his arm and his fingers began to point. He stopped as his finger pointed to another young boy who was standing in front of him. The young boy who was pointing, began to take a step back before yelling "What is wrong with you?"_

_The boy, his left eye gleaming a bright red, could only look down and attempt to cover his eye as tears began to fill in his eye. A teacher rushed to his side to hide him from further attention but the pain had already been dealt._

* * *

Yakumo opened his eyes, he had been thinking about that memory ever since he had to re-live it in a nightmare last night. He had woken up, covered in his sweat and breathing quite heavily. It was one of the worst experiences he had gone through. It might have been because he was so young or it could have been because the girl and the boy were his best friends and they were a trio that were always together. Whatever the reason, it still caused him emotional pain to think about it. His closest friend had rejected him, when he finally gained the courage to show them his eye, because they found it eye to be monstrous.

Yakumo laid down on the couch and put his arm over his eyes as he closed them. Of course he knew that this wasn't the worst thing a person could go through, if someone would tell him that his eye looked monstrous today then he would barely bat an eyelash. He'd heard it enough times already. He knew how bad peoples' lives could get, he'd heard and seen enough stories - he had to deal with ghosts on a daily basis, he didn't have much time for self-pity anymore when many ghosts had gone through _much _worse.

"Yo," a feminine voice called out and Yakumo heard footsteps as they seemed to get closer to him. He let out a nearly silent groan. Great, she usually did come when he was conflicted - always a busy body who involved herself with others' problems, she was so attracted to someone else's problems that she unconsciously arrived when he was having one.

"What do you want?" Yakumo asked. He still hadn't moved from his position and his eyes were closed, his hand still resting on them.

He felt a gentle poke at his forearm which caused him to lift it slightly and with narrowed eyes, he peered at the pink haired girl in front of him. "Is it that you enjoy bothering me or do you enjoy touching me?" He asked, his voice as seemingly unemotional as ever.

Haruka stared at Yakumo with a critical eye. "You're more grouchy than usual, your sleeping bag isn't even on the floor, you weren't even sleeping when I walked in, and not to mention that it isn't even noon yet...," the girl was muttering under her breath as she held a finger to her cheek, contemplating something as her eyes slightly glazed over.

"What's wrong?" Her eyes were somewhat wider than usual.

Yakumo sighed at her worried expression before responding, "Nothing. Why does _something _have to be _wrong_?" Her wording had hit a little to close to home.

The girl looked at him critically, as though she could visually see what was wrong. She gave up as she shrugged her shoulders, "You're right. Besides, if anything was wrong then I'm pretty sure that you would have done something about it." She shrugged her shoulders for the second time and took a step back. "Anyways, I stopped by to see how you were doing. I had to hand in a paper and I was already here, so I came by quickly."

Yakumo completely removed his hand from his face and used it, as well as his other arm, to push himself up in a sitting position on this couch. "Is that it?" He asked, openly staring at her with lazy eyes.

Haruka smiled, "One sec." She slowly walked away, and stepped out of the room for a moment before walking back in. She was carrying a plastic bag and her heels making _click, click_ noises as she walked back towards him a little slower. "I brought these for you as well, I didn't think you'd be awake so you wouldn't have had breakfast but I don't know if you ate now since you're awake...," her voice trailed off and she looked at him for an answer.

"I would like the doughnuts." His voice was blunt but he was looking at the bag as he spoke, his eyes showing slight emotion of being content as he saw the package of doughnuts that were in the bag.

Haruka smiled knowingly as she placed the bag on the table before stepping back once. "Okay then, I'm leaving now. Bye!" She called brightly, with a wide smile on her face as she shut the door to the club closed.

He was left alone with a bag full of duoghnuts and while picking up and examining a jelly-filled one - Yakumo decided that what had past, _had _past. There was nothing more to it, it was the past now and if they really mattered then they would have accepted the eye and him regardless of anything. A handful of people that he now knew didn't find his eye wrong, some even found it a unique and interesting trait about him. He had people like that now and others shouldn't matter.

Yakumo smiled a sad smile, but it would have been barely noticeable if anyone were to walk in at the moment. He already knew all of that, he just needed a helpful reminder once in awhile.

He took a bite and jelly oozed out of the doughnut. It was nice to have someone who understood but, at the same time, didn't understand but still made an effort to understand.

* * *

**A/N:** Finally! Another chapter. It's short because I wrote this for fun and it was enjoyable to write and it was just the _right _length. I couldn't think of anything else that could be "wrong" with these two and this was the first and only thing I thought of. Besides, even Yakumo has his own bad days, right?

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!


	5. Auspicious

**The Only Exception**

_auspicious_

* * *

"They sort of do things differently from us, I heard about it from a teacher back in high school who lived in Vancouver, which is in Canada, for half of her life."

She was a bit surprised at what they were talking about but, at the same time, also not quite. She had dragged him to the little bakery she had spotted and gotten pastries from for the both of them once before. Instead of stuffing himself in the Movie Research Club's room all the time, Haruka figured getting out was healthy. If he really did use a beaker to warm up things with, then even pastries were a healthy change. Sure, he complained, but he eventually gave in because they _were_ headed to the place where those delicious pastries were made.

Getting into the subject of Valentine's Day wasn't difficult considering the atmosphere created when you step near the shops. You didn't even have to peek into the shops to see red, pink and white streamers and banners because they were dangling outside of them too and of course, so were the heart-shaped balloons. Valentine's Day may be over-commercialized but that doesn't take away from what the day is all about, right?

"You know what they do here - girls give chocolate to the guys they have feelings for as a way to express that feeling," Haruka turned away from his face and was thankful that he wasn't looking at her then otherwise he would be more suspicious than she would like. "Usually, it's a great thing for the shy and quiet girls because it's a silent action but it speaks many words."

He eyed the pecan danish as he turned it over in his fingers, she figured he had grown to have a special liking to the pastry. "Yes, that's what I heard..." His voice was quiet and it was clear that he hadn't put too much thought into that response. He was far too interested in that pastry.

Haruka turned to look at his face again and spoke in a bit of a rushed tone, "But of course it doesn't necessarily have to be the person you like nowadays, you can give it to any male but the amount you give sends different messages." She watched as he ate the last bite of his danish. He devoured it at a rate she didn't expect.

Haruka looked down at her own pecan danish and he spoke, "What about you then? Did you save up money for months to buy chocolates to give away to the long list of men you particularly admire?" She winced a little but pushed the platter towards him, which created a muffled scraping sound. Yakumo took the silent offer but didn't touch the food, he would rather an answer.

"Not exactly, I'm not so into the day as much as I was in high school and middle school, but I did give out some chocolates to some friends who help me study. After they practically forced me to, of course." She didn't want to answer the question with detail, especially if he wanted her to elaborate on her past Valentine's Days when she did give out chocolate. They were not the greatest of memories and not quite something she wanted to share, least of all with him... she was relieved when he went back to eating.

Now her mind was filled with things of the past, not important to contemplate about at the moment though. "What were we talking about again?" Haruka muttered to herself and Yakumo sighed, this seemed like it happened far too often. "Oh, yes! The countries in the west do things differently. It's not gender specific and it tends to be a giving-receiving type of day from both people in a relationship. My teacher said they did things like giving flowers, giving cards, presents and other things you see in the movies. It's less of a confession day but more for couples that are already dating." If Haruka wasn't seriously speaking about it because she was actually interested in how the cultures celebrated the days differently, then she knew she would be oddly uncomfortable.

The bakery was empty except for some middle school girls who purchased chocolate with lots of pastel pinks and hearts while the pair became silent. Haruka decided it was time to actually eat the chocolate they also bought and after her first piece, she doubted she would ever be able to bake chocolate as well as that.

"Flowers, huh?" Yakumo leaned back in his seat and she peered up at him, he was done eating. He wanted to curl up and shut his eyes for a bit, but the chair did not make the option very appealing. He would just have to wait until he was back and sitting on the comfiness of his couch. Yakumo didn't care too much for Valentine's Day and the traditions, but the food it offered was a definite positive.

She took another piece of chocolate and popped it in her mouth, nodding. "Yup. Red roses are the most popular because they symbolize pretty much everything the day means - love and romance." She thoughtfully chewed on the chocolate, "I guess there are some people that give other flowers away."

Yakumo rubbed at his eyes with his left hand, sleep was really getting to him. "I don't think roses are ideal to give anyone." He then leaned over the table to grab a piece of chocolate from the small pile in front of Haruka.

She pushed them toward him, "Take more," Haruka said and he easily complied by taking two more. "Why do you say that?"

"Roses are deceiving. They look innocent but in reality, they're rather wicked flowers that go so far as to draw blood." He spoke simply, staring at the array of flowers that mostly comprised of roses, that were gathered in a large vase to their right.

Haruka looked at the same vase, tapping her fingers against the table, thinking deeply of his words and murmuring quietly. "You do have a point... that also means it can symbolize a completely different meaning as well," she shook her head and turned to gaze at the person in front of her. "So does this mean you particularly like flowers?" Her voice brightened and Yakumo couldn't help but quash that idea instantly.

"No. I just don't like roses as much as some people seem to." He narrowed his eyes at her. Yakumo didn't know what type of flowers she liked, was it roses?

He'd been thinking of doing this for awhile, he didn't know why he was pointedly avoiding doing it and this gave him an opportunity, maybe he should just try it out now. He continued to stare at her, his expression neutral.

"What type of flowers do you like, Haruka?"

Her eyes glazed over a bit, her cheeks deflating minimally and her mouth was agape. Her tapping on the table had stopped.

Yakumo had said her name.

_Yakumo_, the only psychic detective that she personally knew and wasn't a phony - called her by her name.

Something she's sure he has never once said before because she had taken notice.

It wasn't even during a special moment. He hadn't called her by her first name when he jumped into that body of water for her, when she was supposed to die to be used as a sacrifice to bring back that creepy doctor's dead daughter and that a very serious and scary time - which meant that saying her name for the first time would have been appropriate.

What if she had died without her ever hearing her name from him? She would leave the world knowing that she was known as 'her' and 'that' by him, the one she... held feelings for, not that it would make a difference to him.

Or she would remain on this Earth as a ghost for the sole purpose of haunting the detective and getting him to say it once? No, he'd get so annoyed that he would gruff it out and that would be a complete waste. Plus, she would rather him say it of his own accord, it meant something that way.

Never would she have expected him to say it _now _though, so casual-like. As though he didn't care, or know, that this was his first time saying it.

She faked a cough and scooted deeper into her chair, pondering over this later would be a better option. "As in my favourite _favourite_?" She asked innocently, her mind whirring at the different thoughts his sole question induced.

Yakumo shook his head in amusement, but Haruka noticed his face looked constrained. It was as though he were holding back a grimace. "Yes, your most favourite flower?" He sounded slightly impatient now and Haruka was gravely confused but still answered him.

"Irises, although I like them best when they're white. They look great in bouquets, with different combinations. What do you think of them?" Haruka slyly eased in the question, trying to get him to talk.

It seemed as though he wasn't in the mood to talk, despite him being the questioner. "No." He let out a frustrated sigh and continued, "I don't think I remember what they look like. Hey, how about you go buy some from that flower shop?" Yakumo pointed toward the window, where you could see a tiny shop with a line that extended outside of the building.

Haruka puffed out one cheek and turned back to look at him, "Have you taken a look at that line? It'll take awhile, plus I don't think I have enough to buy some." She shrugged and picked up another piece to place in her mouth but Yakumo's glare made her feel self-conscious so she held it. "Yes?" She said, her voice was noticeably quieter than before.

He handed her a bill, which she could only stare at as he said, "Here, go buy yourself a bouquet of them."

Haruka only numbly nodded and got up from her seat to exit the bakery. It was when she heard the sound of the bakery's door close that she concluded he had confused her more than usual today. She hadn't even gotten to eat that chocolate piece, that she held even now because of him, so she popped it in her mouth and headed towards the flower shop.

At least this gave her a chance to mull over what happened with Yakumo so far today, which turned out to be a rather auspicious day.

* * *

On the other side of the door, Yakumo still sat at the table where Haruka had sat with him, well away from other people. Instead of leaning back in his chair, he was leaning forward with his head which was turned to the left to look straight at the wall and surrounded by his arms.

It was a simple outing. They had done this before, not too often because he enjoyed being in the safety of his Movie Research Club's room quite a bit, but they had come out to eat before and even when it's not eating, they still spend a lot of time in each other's presence. So why is it that he became _this_ flustered now? Saying her name, such a simple action that really should have made no difference, caused _her_ to have such a reaction, which in turn, caused such a reaction_ from him_.

He was stewing over the events that had just occurred and he kept thinking that it shouldn't bug him this much, and thinking that thinking about it was not right just made him think about it more and that made him think about why he was still thinking about this when he came to the decision to stop thinking about it, but why did it affect him in the first place how could she possibly affect him this much? Keeping a straight face in front of her was harder than usual. Just why did she have to look and act that way when he said her name - the thought cycle would not stop.

He squeezed his eyes for a moment before opening them, burying his head in his arms and then in another instant, he was scratching his head furiously.

Things really _weren't _supposed to happen _like this_.

* * *

**A/N:** It's up to you guys to guess what happened with Haruka's Valentine's Days in her middle school and high school years because I really can't come up with something myself.

I wanted to get Yakumo saying her name out of the way and all I needed was a nonsense conversation between these two. So when my friend and I were talking about V-Day and she said roses were deceiving - I _had_ to write this. Never would I have thought I'd be one of those fic writers that took advantage of special days to write fics based on them, it's not really me but it just fit in well.

I haven't updated in forever and I just wanted to inform you guys that no, I have yet to forget his story. I'm just as crazy about this couple as I have been since I first learned about them, most likely more than ever - so please know that I won't finish this story until I'm,_ at least_, done my 20 themes that I decided on when I first started. I just sometimes need to kick myself to make time to write instead of doing something else.

Thank you! Whether you've read the chapter, have stuck with this story or not, reading this author's note right now or have just peeked into see what my story was all about - seeing my traffic stats was a pleasant surprise when I checked awhile ago and I'm very thankful. This is getting rather long, so let me wrap it up. Thank you guys for everything!


	6. Tiny

**The Only Exception**

_tiny_

* * *

Her body is warm but the tips of her fingers tingle from the cold. She is too concentrated on trying to clench her short fingers into a fist to create some sort of warmth that she only distantly hears the sound of plastic sliding. The sharp chill pierces the back of her neck and makes her slouch in her chair to cover the exposed skin with the fabric of her sweater. She swiftly turns her head to the source of the cold and waves her hand, asking him to shut the window. He was trying to get some fresh air in but she only silently stares until he slides the window down and clamps the sides.

There's the quiet hum of the stove and slight murmur of Christmas songs playing. She knows the holiday's been long gone but they've been playing for days. Unlike that week she played bubbly pop music, he had yet to complain about its "puke-inducing sugariness," so she thinks that he secretly enjoys them.

She reaches her hands out in front of her as he walks towards her before stopping a few feet in front of her. He stares as he contemplates, and she doesn't know if her arms are getting tired faster than her impatience is making itself known but he suddenly takes a hold of her wrists and yanks her out of her chair. She is confused and figures he has misunderstood her intentions. He's leading her into the kitchen so she quietly follows his lead, keeping her curiosity quiet. Only when he releases her to open the cupboard on the far right and brings out the large tub of hot chocolate powder does she understand _his_ intentions.

The windows fill up with condensation and he thinks the muted prattle on the windows means there's some light hail falling but he hardly pays it mind as he sits on the countertop. His feet lightly kicking at her elbow when she stands walks by him to retrieve mugs, she grumbles about how she feels tiny when he sits up there. He occasionally stands beside her to clip her hair back in ways that cause her to stare at him threateningly . She is distracted when he uses his fingers to smooth her hair away from her eyes as he stares into them. It's only when he goes back to sit on the countertop does she realize how she fell into his trap easily. She loudly announces how she won't interact with him until their drinks and cookies are ready to go. He only quietly snorts as he plans on repeating the action in less than half a minute.

He watches her add a dash of cinnamon to their mugs before he decides their snacks are prepared. She has a spoon of the drink in her mouth when he gently takes her wrists for the second time. They both end up with smears of hot chocolate on their lips and he thinks the cinnamon was added just right while she thinks the drink wasn't the only thing that was too warm.

They finish their cookies in the kitchen and take their half-full mugs to the room to bundle up in blankets before sitting in bed to watch anything half interesting on television. She has three blankets; one wrapped around her upper body, one for her lower body and one that cushions her back as she lays down slightly. He sits beside her with one hardly covering him except his toes and comments on the amount of space her blankets cause her to occupy. All it takes is one of her hands to reach out to playfully tug the hair near his eyes before he quiets down so she keeps her hand in place to finger his hair strands.

In a few minutes, they curl up on the bed with their long forgotten empty mugs sitting on the nightstand. She scoots closer and leans her head on his shoulder while he stretches his chin to rest slightly on top of hers to give her more room. In thanks, she kicks away three blankets to pull the surviving blanket up to her chin and tucks it under his elbow.

He is starting to doze off, the grip he had on her loosened and his breathing deepens slightly, so she considers shaking him awake. She ends up leaning over him to place a kiss, half on his cheek and half on the corner of his mouth, but she is tugged down and to the left (towards him). His arms swarm around her body and she feels tiny because of him again.

She doesn't mind feeling tiny in this position though.

* * *

**A/N: **I'll save my excuses (no way have I forgotten about this project of mine, I assure you) but I want to thank everyone who still bothers to read this story. It's always encouraging to know people do. But I've returned with something that's really out of my element - fluff+present tense. You probably won't see much more of it from me but I hope you enjoyed reading!


	7. Snow

**The Only Exception**

_snow_

* * *

"The driveway needs to be shovelled."

"I sincerely hope you have fun."

"I meant together... Yakumo?"

"We should just leave it."

She draws her hand out from under the blinds and sharply turns to glare at him but she can only see the his profile as he has his eyes trained on an old second-hand Higashino book. It takes a few moments of silence, including extra hard effort on Haruka's side because glaring is never an easy task, for him to finally glance at her and reluctantly lower the book from his face. He lets out a small sigh and it's clear to Haruka that he would rather delve further into Detective Galileo's deductions than have this discussion but there was a time and place.

He stares directly back, rolls his eyes and says, "We don't even have a car yet. It's unnecessary." His fingers are practically twitching to raise the book up again but he tries to resist.

"But we need to take care of our house!" There is a tinge of disgruntlement and Haruka tries to keep it at bay. It wasn't too unusual for Yakumo to do this whenever she brought up topics fixing things up in the house. She is sure it was a mix of laziness and rational thinking but she's even more sure that laziness was the largest factor.

It's quiet except for his fingers tapping against the book. "If the homeowners don't care too much then I don't see why anyone else should." He glances past her to the scene of bulky winter jackets and people with long sticks and plenty of white surrounding them and judging by the way his face scrunches up, she guesses he'd rather not join.

She takes a few steps toward him and he thinks it's an attempt at an intimidation tactic because now he has to turn his head higher to look at her face. "That's not the point. Neither of us have had to do something like this before and... I think it would be n—" and Yakumo almost lets out a sigh of relief when Haruka walks away to answer the door.

She lets out a whispered, "That's odd," when she sees something in the windows to indicate that the doorbell-ringer is not a usual guest. Anyone other than Gotou would be an unusual guest, she amends, but the old man usually knocks while his assistant simultaneously rings the doorbell.

Haruka hears Yakumo's quiet footsteps stop a few feet behind her and she opens the door enough to be courteous. It's four children, three are two-thirds her height and one that's about a head shorter than the rest. She takes note that they're all boys as they raise their faces to look at her.

"Hello, ma'am." She's curious but still gives them a polite smile. The tallest grins back at her and continues, "I'm sure you have noticed that today isn't a day for the beach. But rather one that takes hard..." He looks down and one of the boys beside him whispers something, "labour." This time, they all grin. "We have a solution for that."

In a span of seconds, there's a whole bunch of shuffling and muffling and more whispering and all of a sudden, there is an oddly shaped human jumble of human limbs covered in winter jackets that slightly resembles a cheering position. "Pretty Boy Shovelling Troupe!"

From the left, "We will." Right, "Kindly and perfectly." Bottom, "Shovel your driveway." Top, "At a rea... reason-ah... low rate." She looks up to see a smile full of baby fat and teeth and boyish charm from the youngest of the troupe and something makes her want to crush him to her chest.

It's back to the oldest, "A fine young lady like you," Haruka swears she hears a snort coming from behind her so she responds by clenching a fist behind her back, "should've have to work so hard to have your driveway looking spotless. So here we are, ready to help to work and look good while doing it." Now Haruka's the one who wants to snort. "So what do you say?"

There is an array of situations that surround the basic concept of her rejecting their offer and she is in the middle of eliminating her choices when she chime of the phone ringing interrupts her. Yakumo hardly ever picks up the phone, at least when Haruka's there, because he practically the role of answering all the phones within her vicinity. She steps back, softens her smile and skids away with a, "I'll get someone else to talk to you."

She walks past him swiftly to retrieve the phone but manages to mumble out, "Let them down easy," and the innocent look, the one where her bottom lip juts out a tiny bit, doesn't go unnoticed by Yakumo either.

She greets the person on the phone and faintly hears Yakumo's footsteps stop at the before no further sounds are heard after his own greeting to the boys.

* * *

The phone call takes slightly longer than she expected, Haruka is never good with letting down telemarketers especially when they offer such appealing deals and she just ends up encouraging them to tell her more details when she should be giving them a negative response.

She walks into the living room to find Yakumo lounging on the couch and she is in a good mood before her eye catches a bunch of little boys holding shovels in her driveway. She can almost hear sirens going off in her head when she turns to glare at Yakumo once more.

"It's for a good cause, I swear." He doesn't even give her the decency to look up from his book this time.

She almost bites down too hard on her tongue. "Don't tell me—they're going to restore a hospital in Cambodia."

He ignores her blatant sarcasm. "They're going to buy new trading card packs for some show and there was something about a video game," it is lazily drawn out and Haruka should be even more angry at his attitude but she fleetingly wonders if he was ever interested in such things. Maybe Gotou knew of such a Yakumo. "I also promised a tip if they do really well. It feels so nice to inspire such motivation in young people." He's mocking her.

"We were barely able to afford this house, we have a mortgage dragging us down and you think we should spend our money on _this_? What happened to shovelling not even being _unnecessary_?"

He sighs while still looking at his book. "It's good to help the neighbours out. Besides, neither of us _have had to do something like this before_ so at least now we know the job is being done right."

Haruka lives with a jerkface and she knows it and she wants to tell him just that. But instead, "But that doesn't make the fact that we're losing money disappear. It only makes our money disappear."

He looks to her with such finality that she wavers when he says, "You worry too much." She reluctantly lets it go, knowing the pair of heels she bought for her friend were probably more expensive than whatever rate the kids were asking for.

"But Yakumo. They're children, that youngest one doesn't even look like he's in fourth grade." She's pacing now and she doesn't even pay any attention to whether or not Yakumo is still listening to her rambles on child labour and stories about things she heard about the cruel things sports equipment factories have done.

* * *

She's out in the driveway with her pajama pants still on because she decided the matter was too important to waste time with putting on proper pants. She thinks she can hear a deep rumble of a laugh from behind her and she assumes he's watching her from the window in amusement but she refuses to give him the satisfaction of looking back. That'll show him.

He's been mocking her behind her back too often today. "I called you a busybody from the beginning for a reason. You are so predictable sometimes," is what he yelled to her as she walked out the door and a little part of her is theorizing whether or not he orchestrated all of this.

She surveys the neighbourhood, there's plenty of adults out shovelling and she notices a majority of them seem to be women. She feels a sentiment of pride in them taking charge that dies once she thinks that maybe they all had lazy men lying around in the house just like her.

She urges herself to fling thoughts of the gremlin living in her house out of the crevices of her mind and her eyes spot the children. Or the Pretty Boys Shovelling Troupe, as they called themselves. She wonders which one of them made the name up.

The homeowners before their left shovels so she grabs one before running off to join them. That's when she takes notice that they are not making much progress.

Haruka has always been good at theory and in theory, she knows how shovelling works. Person pushes snow to designated area of snow piling, they lift shovel and drop snow in the pile. Despite confidently selling that they would do a good job, she's sure this is their first time as she watches them use the shovel to gather snow and then use their hands to throw the snow in the big pile.

Judging from the success rate of their technique, Haruka decides to stick to theory. They smile a bit when they see her and Haruka thinks they're thankful for the help as they shuffle their feet in nervousness. She smiles from behind her scarf.

After awhile, her arms get tired from lifting the snow and she tries something different on instinct. There's a feeling akin to acing a test that explodes in her and she walks over to the kids to show them.

"Once your shovel has a bunch of snow gathered, just use your foot to hit the bottom and help it lift so your arms don't have to be completely burdened." She hears a faint _woah, that's helpful_ when she demonstrates and then all of the children are scrambling to put her technique to use.

She's sure it's nothing too special but something in her blossoms into self-pride.

They have most of the driveway done in half an hour and Haruka has managed to confirm that this was the first job they obtained. Her insides twinge when they tell her about the previous rejections they got. She's a little grateful to Yakumo now. Or at least, for his laziness.

They take a bit of a break and are sitting on the porch discussing the pros and cons of visual art in grade school, they're all having a tough time, when the oldest speaks to her once again, "By the way, the name's Akihiro but you can call me Kai. Because it's cooler," he tells her and Haruka is both stunned by his cheek and amused by it. Yup, he's probably the one who came up with their group's name.

Akihiro suddenly lurches forward and something jumps to Haruka's throat but a snigger from behind her tells her that it was harmless. After stare down between the five of them, it's an all-out snowball war. When one snowball accidentally hits the window in their living room, Haruka cringes but she sees no response from Yakumo so she thinks she's in the clear for now.

She's in the middle of getting the youngest to stop from shoving ice cold now down Akihiro's winter jacket when she hears someone call out in their direction from across the street. Her and the children freeze but when they see the person from across the street run over to the neighbour on Haruka's left, they relax and return to shovelling.

It's not like Haruka is taking a glimpse of the situation over there every few seconds, of course not. Respecting your neighbours' privacy is basic knowledge.

She notices them walking over to her and suddenly, Haruka sees the other neighbours walking over too. In a few minutes, something resembling a makeshift neighbourhood meeting forms on her drivewayand Haruka is bewildered because even when she lived with her parents, save for a few close neighbours, they mostly kept to themselves after the... incident.

"He's mending the plumbing and I would pick this over that any day." Haruka figures they're talking about their husbands' whereabouts.

"Mine decided the football game was worth having his car snowed in for a day."

"At least yours is awake, mine is trying to break his own personal record of sleeping for 16 hours straight." Haruka suspects Yakumo also keeps track of such things.

The only two adult men in their little group talk about their sick wives and letting them sleep in. Haruka can almost see when each of the other women decided they'd trade their husbands for them any day.

She finally notices how numb her toes have gotten when they all turn to her. She knows they're expecting words but she can't think of any right now. One of them comments on the adorability of her cartoon pajama pants, Haruka doesn't agree with them because pajamas are the last things anyone should wear in the wild. She could have sworn her face was too cold to heat up on its own but it only gets worse when they laugh as she tells them about the situation with the Pretty Boy Shovelling Troupe and Yakumo.

Her voice sounds sharp when she speaks of his ridiculousness that he displays _sometimes_ and then they all have to lean in to hear when she talks about his finer points during _other times_ because her voice takes on a different tone. There is a knowing look going around and an unanimous decision among the group—they all like the new neighbour.

* * *

When Haruka walks through the door, she feels an odd bubbling in her stomach and realizes it to be a sense of pride. She wonders why, as she takes off her boots, because she's sure she hasn't won a Nobel Peace Prize or anything in the few hours she spent doing labour in the frigid chilly air. But sometimes the satisfaction of doing an act of raw, sweat-inducing labour can cause one's self-satisfaction to raise a level.

Not that she should have ever realistically expected Yakumo to come jogging up to the door and twirl her around in joy like her father used to do when she came home with Ayaka from a day of preschool. Quite frankly, she'd find it downright odd. But that train of thought does nothing to stop the warm sensation in her stomach from leaving and being replaced by an oncoming twist.

She takes a quick peek into their living room and when she neither hears the murmur of news reporters speaking about the latest stunt puller by their town's mayor or sees a big lump of limbs on the coaches, she goes to their shared bedroom with a mission to change into something more comfy as well as to continue her mission of finding Yakumo. When Haruka squirms out of her layers for a single large tshirt and turns to look for Yakumo anywhere in the room, a knot in her stomach further twists when she doesn't find him. She rushes to their guest bedroom only to discover the same result. Jumping down from the third last step, she nearly trips upon her landing but quickly recovers and makes her way back to the living room.

With a single blanket covering only his lower-half of his body, Haruka finds him, at last, on the floor. He has one arm lazily splayed over his eyes but she knows this is the basic position he takes on when he's looking for sleep. She walks over to him and slowly folds her legs under her to give her access to his cheek. Haruka can't resist so she tries to gently caress his skin without disrupting him. Yet, she sees his arm slowly lift away from his face. She knows he was never asleep but she thinks nothing of it as he reaches for the fingers on his face and motions her to lay down with him.

She can hardly do anything but comply as his piercing look stays trained on her face. Suddenly the twists in her stomach come undone in a burst when he mimics her previous ministrations and brushes his thumb across her cheekbone. She can feel heat rising to the areas he's touching her and she distantly scolds herself for still being affected by such things so easily.

He uses the hand on her face to gently lead her closer to his own and at this point, she's pretty sure he could get her to anything with only a little encouragement from his side. Her head stops so near to his that she can feel their warm breath mingling in the space between their faces and she feels nothing but pure heat all over when he whispers _welcome back_ _busybody_ before pushing forward to meet her lips.

* * *

They are still on the ground with the blanket thrown over them and because she is so tired, Yakumo decided to take over the conversation. "I heard that comment about me being lazy, you know. My reasons for hiring those children were completely justified."

Haruka knows she should say something back to him because no, his actions were not. She should warn him not to even dare to throw his responsibility off, no matter how "unnecessary" the task. But at some point during his warm greeting for her, one of his hands slipped under her shirt to her bare back and he knew exactly what he was doing. His fingers gently moving from the top of her spine to her lower hip, barely skimming the surface but she knows they are there and that's what does her in. It's when his hand stops to pay attention to just one area that her mind reels because she can't concentrate on arguing with him now. So she lets the issue go for now, instead burying her face in his shoulder and shutting her eyes to focus on the vibrations his breathing makes as he continues teasing her.

She can feel his breath coming closer to her face and her breathing quickens a tiny bit again—when the doorbell rings for the second time that day.

"It's the kids coming to get paid, isn't it?" Yakumo asks, having leaned away from her.

Haruka thinks about the warmth she's surrounded in right now and the tingling in her hands before she sits up, nodding. "Just a second." She brushes his hair out of his face and then rushes to their bedroom to grab a few things before getting to the door.

It sounds like they attempted to have their ownf rendition of Mary Had A Little Lamb with their doorbell and Haruka greets them with a charming smile that becomes more genuine as she sees them beaming at her.

"Here's the pay based on your hourly rate, you better be checking the amount I've given is correct otherwise I'll be very disappointed in your business skills," and she has to let out a smirk when Akihiro is hit by the youngest child and hurriedly starts counting the money. "And here's a little tip," she says and hands them a gift card to an electronic store. "There's enough for a video game."

She can feel her smile wanting to break out even further as they look up to her with happiness and that glint in their eyes that only children have. "Thank you ma'am. We'll be sure to harvest this," and Haruka doesn't even try to correct Akihiro because she thinks she understood his sentiments.

She closes the door and is once again welcomed to warmth in the envelope of Yakumo's arms.

Haruka thinks she received a lot of warmth today.

* * *

**A/N:** That's three chapters in a row where I take advantage of the current season, I refuse to allow this to be a pattern.

I wanted to write about Haruka and her day consisting of slightly odd situations basically. I should probably copyright Pretty Boy Shovelling Troupe, who knows the idea might make a profit? I haven't stated whether they are married here or not but they bought a house together—read into that however you choose to.

So this piece honestly was just me fooling around and I will eventually get to writing something serious but I need to learn some things first. I think I avoided updating this for awhile because I didn't like the earlier stuff in this collection too much, it makes me cringe to reread and I feel so sorry to anyone who reads them now. So here's a longish piece because I'll be going back and cutting and heavily editing a lot of things in those earlier chapters. Hopefully that means I'll update this more too then!

And I'm fine choosing my prompts but I've been mulling over this and I'll leave the option open for now. So you can give me a single sentence/situation and a word, or even just a single word, as a writing prompt and there might be a chance that I'll use it. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading!


	8. Night

**The Only Exception**

_night_

* * *

Haruka doesn't like these nights.

The ones where her bed actually looks uncomfortable and she doesn't want to go to sleep just yet, but she should if she wants to stay awake while riding the bus the next morning. She's ready for bed, having brushed her teeth, twice and a third time because she snacked on a few crackers right after, and combed her wet hair. Maybe even grabbed a cup of hot chocolate to drink before nestling under the comfy covers. That's when she realizes that she can't keep her eyes closed long enough. Her gaze keeps trailing back to the window, as though the moon's attractive force were pulling her in as well.

Her fingers are gripping the covers too tightly and she lets go immediately. Her hands meet under the covers and sweat coats them as she rubs her fingers together. Once she stops fidgeting with her hands, her fingers head straight to her clothes and start toying with the fabric there. Her feet are crossed. Then they're thrown over to the side. Then they're back to being crossed.

Deciding to change her environment, she gets up and sits down on a chair in the kitchen. Bringing her fingers to her face, she tries to imitate what she's learned at the few sessions of yoga her friends dragged her to and breathes deeply in and out, while rubbing circles at the side of her head. It does nothing but increase her attention on all of the wrong things. Her head feels heavier than usual and she's sure the headache is a warning from her body. She's been awake far too long this week but she wants nothing more than to not fall asleep. She doesn't want to stay awake but right now, anything is better than trying to go to bed.

Leaving the chair behind her, she goes to the couch and picks up a book that he had left there. Making sure the plain black bookmark wouldn't fall out, she opens to the beginning of the book and tries to concentrate on the words. Her mind falls back between listening to the tale of the beginning of a case to trying to stop the gnawing that she thinks is ready to emerge from her gut and chew and consume her until all that is left is her hair. Turning into dust sounds nicer.

She's not sure if it's only emptiness that's eating at her. The feeling is hollow, like someone's dug a hole and didn't bother to fill it. It weighs down on her, threatening to crush her ribs, but that could be her tired state at fault. There's something else though, something stinging about the sensation that makes her think it's soft kisses of pain, imprinting emptiness in its wake instead. Pain and emptiness at once, it shouldn't make sense but it does.

Having struggled for years with this feeling, she used to hope that it would get easier but she's sure that it's only worsened. It sounds like a terminal disease and she hates it, because just like one, she can ignore it but it's really a shield of sand consisting of false security for a short period of time before it makes its presence known in the worst way possible.

Stupid mistakes, mere chance carelessness, or letting your ugly side of humanity take over for a tiny moment allows the opportunity for the biggest of regrets to occur. She can try to be a better person but nothing can make up for taking away a human life. She knows.

Her mother used to be there for nights like this. Sit beside her on the bed, sometimes softly sing or chant a prayer, and her sobs would quiet. The next morning, her red-rimmed eyes would be the only residue left. Now she's alone and the weight on her ribs has grown to encompass her throat. She can feel the sharp tingle around her eyes. Maybe being alone isn't too smart.

But she knows this feeling well, She's had practice. She also knows that allowing herself to give in to the fatigue, to fall asleep only leads to nightmares. It's much easier to control your subconscious when you're awake.

Haruka hates nights like these.

One hour later, she reaches for the phone. It takes just ten shaky breaths, each a little harder to release than the other, before dialing the number. It takes plenty of waiting, and she thought she was sapped of strength but the fist her free hand forms says otherwise. There is silence for a few beats and then a groggy male voice, with a little more than a hint of annoyance underlying his tone, answers.

She realizes later that the sound immediately stopped the empty feeling from growing further. An hour after that, the feeling had started to recede.

* * *

**A/N:** I do plan on getting to the requests (I have ideas planned, trust me so for now, you're free to send more in if you like!) but this was a spur of the moment thing. I guess it really wanted to be written.

Also, a shoutout to _mujintou scans_ because they released two chapters after a short hiatus! Always a nice thing to see.


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